


Change

by sun_and_sin (sun_and_solace)



Series: How to Train Your Lightwarden [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light, Body Horror, F/M, Lightwarden Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), M/M, POV Second Person, Pain, Sexual Touch, Sin Eater Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Transformation, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29654832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sun_and_solace/pseuds/sun_and_sin
Summary: Your vision gets worse, cloudier, but never goes away fully. Everything is a haze of light, and whenever your master comes he shines blinding like the sun.Then the rows of teeth grow in. Sharp, angry, tearing through the roof and floor of your mouth.Explorative second person of the Warrior of Light undergoing their change and what comes after
Relationships: Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: How to Train Your Lightwarden [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783660
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More explorative work on the gradual change to sin eater and maybe what comes after.
> 
> Tagged for noncon because sin eaters can't rly consent?

It starts with the paling of your skin. Slow, gradually, nigh indiscernible. You see your palms seem whiter than normal, though you aren't sure if it's actually your skin, or the tendrils of light clawing across your vision.

Your vision gets worse, cloudier, but never goes away fully. Everything is a haze of light, and whenever your master comes he shines blinding like the sun. He's beautiful. So beautiful. You always thought he was perfection, but now he is even more so. His aether practically blinds you with its brilliance.

Then the rows of teeth grow in. Sharp, angry, tearing through the roof and floor of your mouth and filling it with blood and drool. It takes you time to get used to, and for weeks on end you bite your tongue, your cheek, your lips, unintentionally over and over, painfully perforating your own body with sharp protrusions of bone as you struggle to adjust.

Then your tongue grows long, unwieldy. When you try to keep it in your mouth it gags you constantly, so you take to letting it live outside, a long tendril of a thing snaking out through your lips, drool spilling from it unwittingly. Your master laughs at you the first time he sees you like that. 

"See? I told you sometimes their tongues just can not stay in their mouth. Who knew it would happen to you, my dear."

Next comes your hands, your feet. Fingers and toes elongate, nails growing into sharp points, dull throbs and pangs of pain emanating from the extremities as they stretch impossibly into claws, good for grabbing and digging into flesh but little else. A sadness washes over you every time you look at them. Now you can barely touch your master with your hands. You want to touch him so much, but your hands are too sharp and unwieldy to touch without hurting.

Then the searing on your back, like red hot metal pressed across your skin. The wriggling just under your flesh, as though a separate foreign entity lived within your body, writhing and squirming, finally stops. Marble wings tear through the skin in four places, stretching behind you, covered in copious amounts of blood and leaving raw gaping wounds where they fought their way free. Your master comes and cleans them for you as you shiver in pain.

"There there, it will all be over soon."

He gazes at you and cups your cheek, stroking your head. You lean into his touch as you moan, trembling in pain. His touch is so warm, so affectionate. So comforting.

He tells you the end is near. The end of the pain.. You can't help but lean into the tremors that rack your body, knowing they will end soon.

"So beautiful."

You let yourself wallow in his voice, clinging to every word. He has such a beautiful voice. Soothing, warming. He is there for you when no one else is. Why did everyone else abandon you? Pain rises in your chest, but the memory of those you once loved eludes you. There is only your master now. Only him.

Sometimes he comes for you, to use you, and hungrily you take him in your mouth, ravenous for that sweet flood of torrential aether. The treat he sometimes gives you. The chance to taste him, to taste a part of that glowing ball of aether within. You let him push entirely into the back of your throat, your body gagging as he does so, but so happily, so keenly, to get at that sweet aether. You let your tongue wrap around him, cup the globes at the base and slither. His moans get louder whenever you do. They tell you soon you'll get that aether you so dearly crave, so you increase your fervor. You are grateful for your spindly tongue - it lets you make your master happier, it lets him give you more aether.

He unleashes into you, and you drink every drop like the starving, ravenous creature you are. It does not stem your hunger, but it is so _so_ sweet none the less.

You lick your lips, and he strokes your head. He calls you a good girl. You feel so warm when he says that. Your master is so kind, so loving. So merciful and giving.

He takes your hand and magicks the pair of you away to a land filled with vessels, filled to the brim with aether. None are as bright as him, but he is your master, you would not dream of hurting him, and are instead grateful for the occasional treat he provides you with.

He tells you to feast, and motions to the vessels.

Hungrily, you bound towards them, plucking one up within your claws and sinking your fangs into it.

Such a good, loving master. He keeps you so well fed, and now he offers you a feast.

How could you have ever thought that he didn't love you?

How could you have ever thought that what you had before him was better?


	2. Chapter 2

It is warm here, in his arms. Soft hands stroke all over you, along your back, your thighs, your cheek, and every touch is wonderful. So warm, so comforting, so pleasant, it almost takes away the pain and longing inside of you. 

Whenever you spend your night screaming at the gnawing pain inside of you, clawing at your chest, hot luminous bile forcing it's way up your throat, out of your stomach and your lungs, he is there, stroking your scalp, wiping the evidence of how you corrode from the inside off of your lips, your chin. You gaze at him with pleading eyes, and he gazes back with mirth upon his lips. He has such a beautiful face...

"My sweet little thing.. does it hurt?"

It fills you with such joy whenever he takes you into his arms, holding your alabaster figure close, chest against chest, your head curling into the crook of his neck. His hands stroking your back, your head, they are so comforting, especially when you've spent several hours with your chest heaving painfully.

He whispers things in your ears. You don't really understand them, but his voice is sweet like honey, and you cling to every noise he makes, your arms curling around him. You are his, and you will always be his.

"Precious little thing..."

Such beautiful murmurs slip from his lips, and always you moan in response to show your appreciation.

It is clear he is enamored with you. Every time he sees you he spends moments running his hands along your form, your beautiful wings, whispering sweet nothings, before he allows you to hold him. You've learnt not to try and touch him when he does this, for it does not please him, and you would not dream of doing anything to displease your master.

Sometimes you wonder about your past. He has spoken about it before. You know you were once a thorn in his side, and you only wish you could show your regret. You would never dream of being a pain for your master. You wish you could apologise. But he always talks about what a good thing you are now. How he has never had to hurt you to get you to obey. You are grateful for it now. You hope you will always be so good for him.

He always takes such good care of you too. He takes you to wonderful places filled with vessels of aether, and praises you as you feast hungrily upon them, sinking your teeth into each bubble and losing yourself to your hunger, ravenous, insatiable. You used to worry that he would look upon you in disgust when you lost yourself to your hunger, but you have learnt not to fear it anymore. He looks so happy, so excited, to see you in your monstrous form, so now you allow yourself to surrender to your base instincts completely, letting his touch bring you back down when all is done.

It is so cooling, so soothing. His touch, the only thing that can tame you.

And he always takes care of the heat between your legs too, his soft caress stroking against it and filling it whenever your carnal instinct takes a hold of you. Sweet nothings murmured into your ear as you cling to him, heat pouring into your belly. He always rewards you for being such an obedient monster by giving you a little bit of his own aether. It is the sweetest you have ever tasted, and long have you desired to sink your teeth into his pale flesh, to drink from his vessel.

But then you would be alone.

You would lose the one who loves and cares for you so dearly.

And you can not bear the thought of that, nor the thought of harming your master.

You love him too.


End file.
